Page 64 of Vicious Heir

“Fuck me, husband,” I whimper, my eyes rolling back. “I’m so close.”

“Then come for me, you filthy fucking girl. Come for me, my beautiful slut, my sinner, come on my big dick and fucking thank me when you’re done.”

I shatter, gasping, skin flushed, fingers digging into the belt around my wrists, his name on my lips until I can’t even make those sounds anymore, and he doesn’t relent. God, he doesn’t slow down; he takes me and takes me, and it’s only when he fills me with his thick warmth that I finally come back down too.

“Fuck,” he says, husky and sweet. I’m grinning like a maniac. My ears are ringing. I can barely think.

“Yeah, fuck.”

Gingerly, tenderly, he takes off the belt. He kisses my wrists where the leather left red marks. I might have a welt, and I don’t care. He strokes me, his lips pressing to my shoulder, my collarbone, my chin, and my cheek, and finally my lips. “Wife,” he says possessively. “Such a good girl. So fucking beautiful. God, you do such a good job. You’re so fucking perfect.”

I curl into him as he praises me. It’s almost as good as the sex. His arms wrap around my body, and he tugs me close.

“Do me a favor,” I say, feeling very small and vulnerable. “Carry me upstairs and put me in bed.”

His arms tighten their grip as he lifts me. “Done.”

I cling to him as he takes me up the stairs and into our room. He puts me down gently into bed and wraps the blankets around me, fussing with the pillow to make sure it’s perfect. Then he gets undressed and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me close against his big, strong body, and I sink down into him. I let the warmth and comfort take me. I feel like he ripped me in half, and now he’s slowly stitching me back together. Where the breaks were, I’m filled with concrete and iron.

Stronger and better than before.

Chapter 22

Adriano

Inearly fall asleep. If I’m ever going to get any rest with all these demons haunting me, it’s in Lucy’s arms.

Even if I know it’s wrong.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Getting close to her is a mistake. I know my future. I know my soul. There’s nothing good inside me. Only a rotten man doing terrible deeds for his family. And one day, maybe not all that long from now, I’ll end up exactly like my father.

I’ll forget Lucy’s face. I’ll forget her name. I’ll forget this moment, right now, this perfect moment, my new wife in my arms and her taste still singing on my tongue, and that’s the biggest tragedy of all.

The world should never forget this.

I know what’s coming, and it isn’t fair to her.

But I’m a weak man. I’m pathetic in the end. I can’t tear myself away even when I know I should.

I want her too much. I’ve never craved a person like I crave her. Even after filling her and taking her as my own, all I want to do is stay in bed and breathe in her hair. Tingles run down my spine every time I catch a whiff of her scent. I have entire dreams about that smell.

Her breathing steadies. I’m not sure if she’s falling asleep or not. I hold her naked, small body against my own. Right until my phone starts to ring.

It goes to voicemail.

Then rings again. And again. And again.

Finally, knowing I’ve let it go on way too long, I pull myself away. What the fuck is wrong with me? I have responsibilities. I can’t ignore them just because I want to spoon my beautiful little bride.

She’s drifting and looks slightly startled when I answer.

“Who’s calling?” I grunt, annoyed.

Luca’s panicked voice puts me on high alert. “It’s Velvet Echo,” he says. I can hear yelling in the background. “Adriano, the place is on fucking fire.”

I jolt out of bed. “What are you talking about? How bad is it?”

“Really bad. The fire department’s on the way, but you gotta get down here.”

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